


The Real World

by epizkage



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Homophobic Language, M/M, Multi, Physical Abuse, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Tags will be updated, Violence, check notes for chapter specific warnings!, credence gets hit a lot look out, i think this is gonna be Long, percy doesnt turn up for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 01:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epizkage/pseuds/epizkage
Summary: Escape from the church was almost tangible now, within his reach, the light at the end of a very dark and very long tunnel that he was sprinting to get out of.-Kicked out of the church for the night, Credence finds himself at Kowalski's bakery; a night that changes the course of the rest of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

“Belt.”

It was an order he had grown accustomed to hearing, and Credence had the buckle undone before she’d even got the word out.

“Now.”

He passed it into her waiting hands and saw her knuckles whiten, grip tightening around the leather as if taking her time to remember and savour how it felt in her hands, as if this _wasn’t_ a daily occurrence.

She needn’t even tell him to present his hands, palms raised before him as though in disturbed offering, submissive and vulnerable.

Once, twice, ten times, at which Credence finally cried out and earned himself five more with the buckle, and by the time she was done his hands were immobilised, all spasming tendons and smeared blood.

“Filth.” She spat, handing the belt back into his mangled hands and watching with disgust as the leather was tainted with his sinful blood, and despite the pain he threaded it back through his trouser loops and buckled it; red drying on silver.

“Get out.”

His eyes widened for the first time in a while, usually prepared for whatever she would say, but this time-

“You mean, l-leave, Ma?”

“Stupid child.” She slapped him then, nails scraping his too-sharp cheekbone and leaving little red tracks in their wake. “Get out. You may come back in the morning, once you’ve learned some civility.”

All he could do as she pushed him towards the door was share a glance with his sisters who both stood in the doorway watching him. Modesty looked as though she was about to cry, and he silently pleaded with her to be okay during the night, while Chastity was obviously trying to stay stoic, eyes flicking down when she knew Ma wasn’t looking to the blood on the hardwood floor that she would no doubt be made to clean up.

With a grunt Mary Lou swung open the door and shoved Credence out into the snow with both hands firm against his chest, and before he could even reach out the door slammed shut in his face.

Being outside under most circumstances, with the family, handing out leaflets, felt like a conflict between what was normal nearly a hundred years ago and what was normal now; but being outside alone somehow felt even more confusing. He felt stunted, lost, as if the universe had failed him by never noticing his pleas to just be normal, never intervening, leaving him stuck in the past wandering through an unfamiliar world.

He felt tears begin to well up but quickly wiped them away, before steeling himself and walking out into the night. He wanted nothing more than to cover his hands to combat the cold but was determined not to stain his clothes for fear of further punishment, and so kept them balled into fists and tucked into his trouser pockets.

He continued on, void of direction until he found himself in the city, the yellow glow of the streetlights making him feel warmer despite providing no real warmth. It had only been early when he’d been made to leave, around eight-thirty, and Credence had at first been surprised that Ma had kicked him out before his nightly chores, which usually lasted from nine until eleven-thirty. When he realised, however, that she’d done it just to keep him out in the cold for as long as possible, he soon began to wish he was back at the church, even if it meant doing chores until he collapsed.

All of the local shops were closed bar a few sketchy diners, but his reputation as ‘the freak with the leaflets’ meant that he’d be chased out before he even managed to get through the door; and even if not, he had no money to his name.

A police car sped past, a blur of white and flashing blue, sirens blaring and shaking him to the core, and he ducked into the nearest alleyway out of instinct. The last time the police had found him walking the streets at night they’d taken one look at the bags under his eyes and insisted on testing him for drugs, taking him home and speaking to Ma, a conversation which had seen Credence pretending to be a rebellious teenager staying out past curfew and Ma fussing over him and pretending to care.

He followed the alleyways without pause until they lead back out onto a main street, neighbouring a little bakery, quaint and brand-new in the center of a long line of terraced red brick buildings, the lights inside still on despite the sign on the door reading that it’d closed at six-thirty. He let himself take a break, staring wide-eyed at the golden cakes that lay in stacks and rows in the window and wondering whether he’d ever be able to taste one. He brought one hand up to the window, as if he’d be able to touch them if he reached out far enough, only to feel the cold glass shoot thorns through his skin and he withdrew as if burned. He had no time to focus on the pain, however, as to his horror he realised he’d left a bloody smear of a handprint on the pristine window, and just as he went to try and rub it away, he spotted movement inside and froze.

A blonde, kind-looking woman coming out from a back room met his gaze, tilting her head in curiosity before setting down her broom and coming closer. Credence, frozen in fear, held his breath and felt his eyes well up once again, but when the woman opened the door her voice held no notes of hostility like he’d expected.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“I’m so sorry, I was only looking, I promise you I’ll clean your window, I’ll never come back, I’ll never come down this street again, I’m sorry, I’ll-” Credence spoke all in one breath, urgent to appease them so they’d let him go and Ma wouldn’t find out what he’d done.

“Oh honey, you’re bleeding-” The woman interrupted him, paying no mind to the window he’d ruined or his scruffy, torn clothes as she came close enough that if she reached out she’d touch him.

“It’s okay, I’m fine, please, I’ll clean the window and you’ll never see me again.”

She did reach out then, one hand placed tentatively on his shoulder, and Credence recoiled in on himself, expecting a blow that never came. Withdrawing her hand with a sigh and a look of pity, the woman took a moment to think before she took a rag from her apron pocket and swiped the window clean. Credence went to protest, but his voice fell short; heart about to beat out of his chest.

“You can come inside if you’d like, we won’t hurt ‘ya.”

Credence felt nothing more than an injured animal, deserving of nothing but the cold to put him out of his misery, and yet something about the woman’s radiating kindness had him nodding timidly in agreement before his fears and better judgement could stop him.

Her smile was a picture of pure relief as she ushered him inside and closed the door behind him, waiting to make eye contact before locking the door, as if to show Credence how to unlock it and leave if he wanted to.

Stepping into the shop had felt like stepping into a completely separate world, so used to the dated attitudes and behaviours of his home life that Credence knew the bare minimum about how to live any other way. He knew nothing of things others took for granted, like making friends or playing games, even at a loss with how to work a TV. Here, in the little bakery, there were no punishments or chores, no accusations or abuse, just beautifully average, comfortable domesticity.

Normal.

“Gosh, it’s sure cold out there-” She spoke almost to herself, as if to keep silence at bay. “-Would you like a hot chocolate? Or some water?”

Credence’s head spun - had he died? Was this woman an angel taking care of him? Surely not, there were no angels in _hell_.

With a jolt he realised he’d asked that out loud, and the woman looked as if she was going to cry. She grabbed a stool from behind the counter and slid it round to rest by a radiator, gesturing for Credence to sit before she disappeared into the back again. He did so, hesitantly, the warmth from the radiator bliss against the chill though he’d only allow himself to indulge so much.

By the time the woman returned Credence had moved from the stool to stand by the counter, back rigid, still-bloody hands clasped tightly by his front. With her came an equally-kind looking man, who regarded Credence with the same kind of pitied look as she had.

“Hey, kid.” He greeted, his smile hesitant. Credence bowed his head in reply, not trusting his voice, and when he raised his gaze once more the man had come closer, holding out a black mug of steaming liquid topped with a swirl of whipped cream.

“Here, my name’s Jacob-” He continued, nodding towards the mug to coax Credence into taking it. “-Jacob Kowalski, and this is Queenie.”

Unwilling to taint any more of their wonderful shop, he shook his head, and held his hands out for them to see.

“I can’t, sir.” He spoke quietly, explaining quickly to avoid the risk of being seen as impolite.

“My hands.”

Mr. Kowalski’s shock was evident on his face and he set the mug down on the countertop, sharing a glance with Miss Queenie.

“What the hell happened to you, kid?”

“I slipped in the snow.” Credence was quick to speak, the excuse falling from his tongue as if rehearsed from a script.

Miss Queenie’s eyes darted from his hands down to his waist, and before he could cover his belt buckle and hide the evidence her eyes had widened in recognition.

“Oh no,” She whispered, voice thick. “Who did that to you? Would you like us to call someone? The police, or social?”

“No!” Credence blurted out, feeling awfully rude the moment he caught himself. “I’m sorry, please, please don’t call anyone.”

Mr. Kowalski had disappeared into the back of the shop once again and when he returned he held a small plastic bowl and a first aid kit, which he placed down on the counter beside the still steaming mug.

“What’s your name?” The question came as quite a surprise, no one ever really cared to know his name. He answered quickly, as if the notion itself was a luxury.

“Credence Barebone, sir.”

There came a pause, as if the two of them were considering all the meanings of Credence’s name, before he spoke once again.

“Well, Credence, will you at least let me patch up your hands?”

Credence would’ve loved to deny his offer, to turn down their kindness with the statement that he was undeserving, but his whole body’s yearning for it made it almost impossible. He supposed, bartering with himself, that accepting their kindness would make it easier for him to leave and keep from burdening them any further.

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it is! my first time uploading a fic in a very very long time, i really hope you liked it! im very open to critiques, anything that can help me improve!
> 
> ive written a few chapters already but i cant guarantee a regular upload schedule, please be patient with me! 
> 
> !! warnings for child abuse and violence in this chapter !!
> 
> find me here: https://twitter.com/EpizKage :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first update! i wanted to thank everyone who read, bookmarked, commented or left kudos on this, it means the world to know people are enjoying this! 
> 
> sorry its quite short but the chapters are starting to get longer - so far ive only written up to half way through chapter 4 so i still cant guarantee a regular posting schedule, but i really hope you enjoy it!

Mr. Kowalski had been incredibly gentle with Credence’s hands, taking them between calloused fingers beneath the warm water and dabbing them dry when the blood had washed away, smearing the cuts in antiseptic gel before wrapping them in neat white bandages to finish. No one had spoken the whole time, other than Mr. Kowalski’s occasional instructions, or Credence’s desperate “thank you”s, and at one point Miss queenie had obviously realised that Credence wasn’t going to touch the mug and had started drinking it herself. For that, Credence had been thankful - he hated to think of anything going to waste through his own fault.

“Thank you again, Mr. Kowalski, Miss Queenie.” Credence spoke softly once the bandages were secured, bowing his head to each of them respectively. “I must get going.”

“Where will you go?” Miss Queenie retorted quickly, and the worry evident in her voice had Credence reeling. He was just a kid, a freak, a street rat who had no business in such a lovely building, and yet there he was taking advantage of their kindness and burdening them with undeserved worry.

“I’ll go home.” Credence knew that lying in the face of such kindness was horrid, and really, he should’ve accepted their gestures; when would he ever feel such kindness again? But as their faces fell, he went to reassure them. “It’s okay.”

“Why aren’t you at home now?” Mr. Kowalski questioned, obviously not wanting to pry but desperate to know the full story. It was clear that Credence was nothing like any teenager they’d met before, and he wondered absently whether morbid curiosity motivated their kindness in any way.

 _‘She kicked me out-’_ Credence wanted to say, his heart burning, being so close to revealing the hell he went through every day and yet for some reason still unable to do it. Still ashamed of himself, his homegrown hatred convincing himself he was full of sin when deep down he knew that the real world was more accepting.

_‘-I looked at a man earlier and she knew, she could see the sin in my eyes.’_

“I was disobedient.” He answered instead, and despite trying to speak vaguely to avoid exposing the true extent of his situation, he carried on. “I’ve done this before, It’s okay, I usually just walk around all night and go home when the sun comes up.”

 He couldn’t reveal that he waited to hear the muffled tolling of the church bells to signify the morning hours, that he didn’t have a phone or a watch or any other way of telling the time.

Mr. Kowalski checked his phone and Miss Queenie looked over his shoulder at it, and as they both noticed the time they looked back at Credence with concern evident in their expressions. 

“It’s only nine-thirty, Honey.”

Credence was a little taken aback, sure he’d been out for an awful lot longer than an hour. The thought of another eight hours out in the cold was enough to convince him to push his fears aside, and for the first time that night he made eye contact with her.

“Oh.” Was all he could say.

“We live upstairs, you can stay the night if you’d like.” Mr. Kowalski offered, obviously either too kind for his own good or seeing directly through Credence’s carefully spun facade. Credence couldn’t quite understand it, but agreed anyway, thanking them profusely as he allowed himself to be lead upstairs.

He’d nearly burst into tears when they insisted he take the sofa, bringing him a glass of water, a blanket and two pillows, and when they’d left him to retreat to their own room, warm and comfortable for the first time in his life; he let his emotions take over.

He’d fallen asleep incredibly quickly after that, exhausting himself further by crying, face buried into the thick plush blanket tucked tight around his shoulders. When he woke up the next morning, the usual pain in his back, shoulders and pelvis replaced by something entirely new, he nearly let himself fall back to sleep and indulge. He felt well-rested, practically _healthy,_ as if he could almost bear to face his Ma again.

When it dawned on him no more than a second later that his sleeping so well most likely meant he was late, he scrambled to his feet and scanned the room for the nearest clock.

 _6:28am_ , the taunting fluorescent numbers read, and immediately his content was replaced with pure, visceral fear. The church bells would ring at six every morning and he was to return no later than a half hour after; Ma’s rules in place simply to make sure that even if he managed to find a place to sleep, doing so would hold too much risk.

He folded the blanket as quickly as possible and left it in a neat stack atop the two pillows, sliding on his shoes that had been left by the sofa the night before and neatening his clothes in the mirror. As he flattened his hair back into the bowl cut he despised, he remembered the few leaflets he had left in his pocket from the night before. He grabbed one and unfolded it, more willing to face the punishment waiting for him at home than to leave his hosts with no expression of gratitude, and scrawled down a quick note on the back.

Leaving the note on top of the blanket, Credence left the room as quietly as he could, tiptoeing his way across the flimsy-looking floorboards in the hallway. He pocketed the bakery door key from the hook on the wall before leaving their flat and descending the stairs, hearing the flat door lock automatically behind him as he left. The sun was just beginning to rise as he unlocked the bakery door and opened it only just enough to slide out without ringing the bell overhead, and as he locked the door back up and posted the key back through the tiny letterbox, he stared once more at the signage overhead, committing it to memory.

 _‘Kowalski’s Bakery’,_ it read, all fancy white letters and swirls, and as Credence sped out into the streets he vowed to go back and thank them in person.

The note had been given pride of place on the mantelpiece when Queenie and Jacob found it just under an hour later, having been read aloud at least twice before being propped up carefully by an ornament, with promises to look at it again when the day was done.

 

_Dear Mr. Kowalski and Miss Queenie,_

_Thank you so much for taking me in last night, your kindness was undeserved but I’ll never forget it. I’m so sorry to have left without speaking to you properly, but I really needed to get home and I didn’t want to bother you. I took the bakery key to get out, and for this I’m sorry, but I promise I will lock the door and post the key back through your letterbox. I hope I didn’t burden you too much. I’ll come back to thank you again in person as soon as I can._

_Credence_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this one, just queenie and jacob essentially becoming parents


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im back! sorry i took so long to upload, long story short me and my boyfriend broke up and i started back at uni, so everything happened at once and it fell onto the back burner for a little while, but im alright now! hopefully will get back into the swing of writing again, but thank you so much again to everyone who read, commented, bookmarked or left kudos! you're amazing!!!
> 
> hope you enjoy! :)

When the church came into view Credence’s mind fell blank in a subconscious attempt to distance himself from his body, from the pain he was sure was soon to come. Luckily, in the light of day the walk back had been much quicker, as he recognised the streets and alleyways and had managed the walk in only ten minutes or so. However, as he rounded the corner onto Pike Street he was hit by the crippling realisation that he most definitely hadn’t been quick enough.

The church itself painted such a strange picture, a tiny building, hundreds of years old and dwarfed on every axis by towering metal buildings; hotels and offices alike.  

And there, statue still in the arched doorway between the thick wooden doors stood Ma, staring out onto the street with her hands clasped behind her back. Behind her stood Chastity, hands full of leaflets, and when she looked up and met his eye she looked away as if the eye contact would blind her.

He had no time to pause and recollect himself and could only continue on, fortunate to have removed the bandages from his hands on the way home to avoid any extra unanswerable questions.

“Credence-” Mary Lou called once Credence was close enough to hear, keeping her voice light and civil as she did when she had to pretend to love him for risk of the general public overhearing. “-In you come, hurry up.”

Credence walked as if on autopilot, gaze fixed to the ground as he passed Ma and Chastity, coming to stand at the foot of one of the long tables.

Chastity exchanged a few words with Ma before calling for Modesty, who came down the stairs immediately and followed Chastity out, sparing one look back at Credence before the doors swung shut.

 

Trapped.

 

It was silent then, save for the clicking of Ma’s heels against the floorboards as she paced closer to Credence, circling him like a fox taunting a wounded rabbit.

“Where were you?” She asked, her voice a shrill echo.

“I’m sorry, Ma, I came the long way home-” Credence recited, his excuse mentally rehearsed the whole way home. He pulled the last few leaflets from his pocket, and held them out to show her, three left of one hundred.

Nearly all of them had been dumped in different spots around the city.

“-I had some leaflets left, I wanted to give them out on my way back.”

Mary Lou snatched them from him and laid them down on the table, gently, as if the papers were sacred.

“I don’t believe you.” She hissed, stepping closer to him, looming over him despite standing inches shorter. “You were back at that book shop, weren’t you?”

Credence had to use all of his energy not to react, biting his tongue against the urge to clench his fists and defend himself.

“Back with _him,_ that god-hating queer. I know you were, don’t deny it.”

“Ma, I wasn’t, I-”

She slapped him then, hard and rough across the cheek, leaving his cheekbone stinging pink.

“Enough.”

Credence held one hand against the rapidly blooming bruise on his cheek and the other instinctively against his belt, already unbuckling it before she’d even asked him to.

Everything fell into slow motion as Credence’s belt slithered from its loops, snakelike in shape and power as Ma held it, ran her fingers across its body, familiarised herself once more with its capabilities.

He sat down to face away from her and pulled his tattered, too-big t-shirt from his body, new and old scars exposed and shining in the church light; an effigy to Ma’s regime, a map of Credence’s submission and a tribute to his imprisonment.

Fifteen times she hit him, every time harder and more drawn out than the last until her final strike, which came with such force that it sent Credence’s body lurching forward, head dropping to rest against the wooden table.

He shut his eyes against the tears, cool trails dribbling down his back and providing the most miniscule amount of solace against the searing pain. Ma scoffed and dropped his belt to the floor, turning on her heel to walk away. She stopped when she reached the door and turned, addressing Credence’s motionless form with harsh and open disgust.

“Clean yourself up, and then get to work.”

 

~

 

It took an hour for Credence’s back to stop bleeding, by which time the back of his shirt was wet to the touch with blood and even more ruined than it was before. He’d busied himself around the house during that time, cleaning the floors and tables in the main dining room, the staircase, and every inch of the kitchen. It had hurt to even move at first, but he’d quickly gotten used to the pain - if Ma had come back and seen he’d done nothing, he’d have been kicked out for good.

He knew that the cleaning would never be to Ma’s standards, but it made the day pass quicker, and at nine she came back through with an armful of leaflets and dumped them unceremoniously into his waiting hands.

“Back here for six o’clock.” Mary Lou warned before she left, and once he was alone Credence took the leaflets and fled before she came back.

 

~

 

Spurred on by his memories of the night prior and emboldened by something he’d never had before, Credence headed straight for the bakery and dumped ten leaflets in every bin he passed until he was empty handed.

His shirt, still plastered with blood, was hidden beneath a thin black jacket, and as he got ever closer he hoped that he looked presentable enough so as to not scare away any of Mr. Kowalski and Miss Queenie’s customers.

He’d gone a different way than usual, avoiding the network of alleyways to go through the town center, and as he walked his determination had got the better of him. He’d ruffled his hair, the horrendous bowl looking much nicer when it wasn’t flattened straight, and had untucked and unbuttoned his shirt a little; desperate to look like nothing more than a normal kid.

Credence, for the first time in his life, was moving with purpose, and it gained a lot of attention from passers-by who knew of him, all of them wondering, presumably, ‘has the church boy finally flown the nest?’

His family were well known in the area for his mother’s excessive street preaching against ridiculous things like homosexuality and evolution, as well as the obvious child abuse that went on behind closed doors.

A few well meaning strangers had tried to call social services a few times after seeing Credence with yet another black eye, or modesty alone on the streets trying to hand leaflets to strangers old enough to be her grandparents. Despite all their best efforts, nothing could be done, Ma would show her rehearsed love and care until the officials left, satisfied that the only issue was their apparent unwillingness to join the present day.

When the signage of the bakery came into view Credence felt his heart leap into his chest, and he fought with his urge to turn around and go back to familiarity.

Slowly he approached the door, now worried about opening it and having everyone look over at him, the little bell marking his arrival to so many uninterested strangers.

Fortunately, he had no time to worry any more, as he met Miss Queenie’s gaze through the glass and she waved him in eagerly.

He smiled as he opened the door, struggling to remember the last time, if ever, that he’d felt so happy. Escape from the church was almost tangible now, within his reach, the light at the end of a very dark and very long tunnel that he was sprinting to get out of.

“Hi Credence!” Miss Queenie greeted him with a grin, and before she could think better of it she was pulling Credence into a hug.

He froze up for a moment, breathing shallow as all the trauma came flooding back, coursing through his veins like acid with memories of Ma hugging him just to lull him into a false sense of security before pushing him to the ground at her feet. It burned and burned and targeted his heart and his lungs until suddenly, surprisingly, it withdrew and vanished as fast as it had started.

The warmth of the hug and Miss Queenie’s gentle touch broke through, and as if moving on autopilot, Credence hugged her back.

It had felt like minutes to Credence but realistically it had been a few seconds at most, and when Miss Queenie pulled away Credence’s body ached for the warmth to return.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, honey!” She beamed, but her face fell when she caught sight of the bruise around his eye and cheekbone, visible now like an inkblot in the bakery lighting.

“Let me guess,” she started, voice a little tense now as if trying to avoid addressing the issue they both knew was standing in the way. “You fell over again?”

Their eyes met and it was clear in that moment that Credence wanted to spill all just as badly as Queenie wanted to ask, but he settled for a simple nod and total avoidance of everything.

She opened her mouth to reply but Mr. Kowalski interrupted her, calling her over to deal with the customers that were rapidly filing in.

“Come sit in the back, Honey, we can talk properly in a sec.”

Credence did as he was told, allowing himself to be lead round through the little beaded curtain into the back room, and as he sat and watched Miss Queenie hurry back into the front of the shop, Credence felt closer to peace than he had ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyy first mention of percy B)))
> 
> !! warnings for child abuse, violence and instances of homophobic language for this chapter !!
> 
> find me here: https://twitter.com/EpizKage :)


End file.
